


six feet under

by knightswatch



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, High Heels, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, dick stepping, thirst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 05:28:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9164197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightswatch/pseuds/knightswatch
Summary: Otabek Altin has had to endure all manner of strife to get to where he is in life. Being a dark horse competitor, the hero of a nation at 23, finding his own path through figure skating— none of these were easy things.Still, at the moment they pale in comparison to the inner turmoil of watching Yuri stride down the street in thosedamn heels.Despite the fact that he grew taller than Otabek over the last three years, Yuri for some reason went out a week ago and purchased a pair of shoes, pumps really, that were covered with leopard print on the outside and sported a heel of at least three inches on the back.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inelegantly (Lir)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lir/gifts).



> For Lira's kinkmeme prompt (https://yurionicekink.dreamwidth.org/881.html?thread=33905#cmt33905) and also because I needed the first thing I wrote for this pairing to be Dirty and Terrible.

Otabek Altin has had to endure all manner of strife to get to where he is in life. Being a dark horse competitor, the hero of a nation at 23, finding his own path through figure skating— none of these were easy things.

Still, at the moment they pale in comparison to the inner turmoil of watching Yuri stride down the street in those _damn heels._ Despite the fact that he grew taller than Otabek over the last three years, Yuri for some reason went out a week ago and purchased a pair of shoes, pumps really, that were covered with leopard print on the outside and sported a heel of at least three inches on the back.

And it isn't the added height that bothers Otabek. This is no taller than Yuri stands when he's on skates. The issue he's having is the way the tall shoes make Yuri’s thighs and backside stand out so prominently. Otabek, always composed, always polite, can't stop staring.

He isn't as prone as Yuri is to indulging in fantasies where sex is concerned— with such a strong-willed partner, it's usually easier just to go where the wind (or Yuri) takes him. But now… he's constantly raking his eyes over Yuri’s back whenever he gets the chance.

Skating at such a high level for so long has built plenty of muscle on Yuri’s legs, and with the added sway the heels give to his slender hips, Otabek finds his mind constantly wandering to the art of sinking his teeth into those muscles and leaving marks behind.

(Worse still is the thoughts he's having about the shoes themselves, but he's not quite ready to admit them to himself.)

“Beka,” Yuri’s voice has an edge to it, and Otabek snaps his eyes up just a moment too late. Yuri is frowning, the downward tilt of his mouth making his lower lip stand out in a pout. “What are you staring at?”

There's no composed, polite way for Otabek to explain himself. He clears his throat, sure that if he doesn't he’ll have trouble speaking, and does his best to smile. “I like your shoes.”

Yuri grins back at him, all pleased sharp angles and pure excitement, and Otabek feels twice as filthy for wanting Yuri’s legs spread for him with the heels still dangling off of his delicate feet. “Aren't they great fashion?”

Otabek nods his head in agreement. He's always been a fan of Yuri’s flashy sense of style. Or at least, he has been until this point.

They board the train meant to take them back to the hotel they're staying at. Yuri invited Otabek to visit Japan with him, likely for the purpose of watching Yuuri Katsuki compete in the Japanese championships, though he hasn't admitted it's anything but a vacation. Once they find seats on the crowded train, Otabek laces his fingers through Yuri’s, finding himself staring once again at his shoes.

His mind, steeped in lust and left idle, considers what it would be like to have one of those shoes press against him. The thought instantly makes a rare blush bloom on his face, and try as he might he can't remove the image from his mind. Yuri, standing over him with one of those sharp, triumphant grins, pinning Otabek to the floor like a collected butterfly with one of his shoes.

His breath shakes just slightly and to try and hide his red face, he turns to press a small kiss to Yuri’s cheek. The two of them aren't frequently very affectionate in public, and the surprise makes Yuri blush as well. It's charming, and despite enduring a day of unwitting torment at Yuri’s hands, Otabek will always live for his tiniest smiles.

He manages to keep most of his composure until they're in the elevator of their hotel. There, he tugs Yuri closer by his scarf and presses their lips together. It's hardly chaste— Otabek doesn't waste time, pressing his tongue into Yuri’s mouth and giving his long hair a slight tug. He knows too well how easy it is to wind Yuri up. In return, Yuri’s nails dig into his shoulders through his thick coat, pulling Otabek closer.

With the added height from the heels, Otabek has to tilt his head up to continue the kiss, a realization that makes him almost.groan. He manages to swallow it, instead mumbling a small “Yura” against Yuri’s mouth when their lips break apart enough to allow it.

The doors slide open with a polite ding, and Otabek blinks his eyes before pulling Yuri out of the elevator with him, every click it his shows against the expensive marble floors sending little shocks up Otabek's spine.

“What's with you,” Yuri laughs once they're through the door, shedding his coat. Otabek's hands slide up his hips, under his loose shirt. He's frowning, he knows, the way he does in practice when he's trying too hard to focus.

“You look good today,” is the answer he comes up with, scraping his teeth along Yuri’s shoulder. He gets an unconvinced hum in return, though Yuri’s fingers are.already sliding through his hair. Otabek takes another shaking breath. “Those shoes…”

Yuri’s eyes light up in understanding, petting his fingers along Otabek's buzzed sides. “You like them?”

He's prodding. Otabek always has trouble _asking_ for things he wants when it comes to sex. This is more difficult than usual because asking Yuri to step on him is strange enough that Otabek isn't sure Yuri will even agree to it. He considers his words for a moment before shaking his head.

He can't explain it. Instead, he backs Yuri toward the bed, pressing kisses against his mouth. When they reach it, Otabek sheds his own jacket and kisses Yuri once more before sinking to his knees before him.

Yuri is hard in his tight jeans, and the sight is an inviting one. Otabek leans slightly forward, nuzzling his cheek against the bulge of Yuri’s cock, before reaching slightly to cradle his ankle in one hand. Despite the strength he skates with, Yuri has delicate ankles and small feet. Otabek's breath feels heavy in his lungs, lifting Yuri’s foot gently to give him time to adjust his balance.

Yuri hardly wobbles, leaning forward to watch as Otabek presses the oval platform of the heel against his own thigh. Yuri isn't putting any pressure on him but Otabek still groans, holding it there and shutting his eyes. “I want…”

He chokes on his own words but it doesn't matter, Yuri gets the idea on his own. He draws in a sharp breath before pointing his toe, pressing it into Otabek's thigh. From there, he drags his foot upwards, skimming along Otabek's leg. He hesitates near his groin, but moves further upward instead, pressing against Otabek's stomach, lifting his sweater to reveal skin.

Otabek's breath is coming in shallow gasps, his face still resting against Yuri’s hip. He lifts his hands, planning on doing what he can to return the favor, but Yuri shakes his head. “Take your shirt off. Lay down.”

The directions are sharp and simple, and Yuri drops his leg to allow Otabek to comply. He does so quickly, tossing his sweater into the direction of his suitcase and spreading himself out on the carpeted floor. From there, he can only look up at Yuri looms over him, lifting his foot once more to rest it on Otabek's chest. He doesn't put much weight behind it, but it's enough that Otabek can feel the sharp point of the heel, and the slight shifts in Yuri’s muscles as he finds his balance.

For entirely different reasons, Otabek finds it hard to breathe. Yuri drags his foot slowly down, and Otabek's hands curl into the carpet, his hips squirming as his cock throbs in response. Yuri is smirking at him. “You like this, Beka?”

Otabek nods his head hard, his lips parting to allow a harsh sigh out of his mouth when Yuri presses slightly harder. Otabek wonders if he could come like this, with Yuri standing on his stomach and looking at him with a mixture of lust and entertainment that sends embers burning through his veins. Still, he wants more of it.

He pushes his hips up again, teeth catching his lower lip, and for a moment Yuri’s eyes go wide. He lifts his foot, pressing the platform of his shoe against Otabek's hard cock. He groans, his hands tightening into fists immediately, arching his hips upwards to rub himself against Yuri’s foot.

Yuri’s grin only goes wider at that. “You're like a horny dog. Do you like it that much, Beka?”

Otabek nods, squeezing his eyes shut as his thighs squeeze around Yuri’s ankle, keeping his foot where it is. There are sparks of confused color flashing behind his eyes as he rotates his hips under the pressure of Yuri’s foot against him, biting harder on his lip. He's close, far closer than he should be from only this. Yuri’s breath comes in sharp and out slowly and Otabek opens his eyes.

“Take your pants off, Beka.” Yuri’s words are a rush, and when he lifts his leg, Otabek wants to whine at the loss. Instead, he obeys. His fingers shake on the button and zipper of his jeans, but he shoves them and his briefs down around his thighs. The air or cold against his cock, already a damp mess, leaving slick pre-come smeared onto his skin.

He spreads his legs as much as he can, and Yuri brings his foot back against him. The sensation is different now, the hard rubber of Yuri’s shoe against his exposed cock, and it makes a groan rattle out of Otabek's mouth, turning his head toward his shoulder to muffle it. Yuri flexes his ankle, pushing his foot down slightly, pressing Otabek's cock against his stomach. In response, Otabek grinds himself up against it, shuddering at the texture of the sole.

He can hardly last like this, and Yuri has gone from being amused by his eagerness to entranced, his eyes wide with lust, biting his lip in focus as he steps on Otabek's dick. He stares up at Yuri’s face, blood pounding in his ears as he comes, painting his chest with it. “Y- Yura…”

Yuri presses down slightly before Otabek finishes, and Otabek tilts his head back into the carpet with a broken groan, raising his hips harder into it until he's spent. Yuri lifts his foot away, making a soft sound against the carpet as he stands straight again, staring down at the mess he's made of Otabek.

Otabek reaches for him, pulling Yuri down until he's kneeling, his legs on either side of Otabek's chest. He's slightly more steady at opening Yuri’s jeans than his own, though the slick patch of fabric at the head of his cock is a surprise. Otabek pushes his jeans and underwear down with Yuri’s help before bending himself over to take the head in his mouth.

The flexibility they both have has always been a benefit to these activities, and Otabek strokes Yuri’s cock as his tongue rolls over the tip of it, gathering the bitter fluid leaking from it. Yuri’s fingers tangle into his hair, thrusting up into the flesh of Otabek's cheeks.

He's closer than Otabek expects, small mewling noises falling out of his mouth as he clings to the back of Otabek's head. Otabek has one hand gripping his ass and the other stroking the extra length of Yuri’s cock that his position won't allow him to take into his mouth. Yuri’s head falls back between his shoulders, long hair tickling Otabek's thighs as he comes, groaning Otabek's name out as he swallows it down.

With some effort, Otabek lifts them both onto the bed, kicking his pants off the rest of the way and using the corner of the sheet to wipe some of the come off of his stomach. Yuri kisses him, long and sweet, a grin on his face. “So you _really_ like the heels.”


End file.
